The Beauty of Death
by AquilaTempestas
Summary: Suicide is not based on weakness; it is based on absolute power.


**Disclaimer**

The rights to Beyblade belong to Takao Aoki.

**Title**

The Beauty of Death

**Summary**

Suicide is not based on weakness; it is based on absolute power.

**Special Thanks**

To chocolatexloverx16 for inspiring me to write this piece.

.

_Pull the trigger; lock and load; all it takes is one bullet; one stab to the throat_

What's the fuss about taking one's own life anyway? There's this big debacle about preventing suicide and I don't understand it. I'm the one who wishes to die. I'm not taking your life so why fuss? You can continue to live a life, but I do not wish to linger in a world so cold. What's the point? What is the purpose in living? I've failed everything.

_Failure to obey; hopes and dreams shattered; in this world I will not stay; inside I am battered _

I failed my father by not upholding his legacy. I failed my grandfather by not obeying his wishes. I failed my friends by turning my back on them when they needed me most. Most importantly, I failed myself. I couldn't achieve my dreams. I'm a loser, nothing more and nothing less. I know one less person in the world, if not beneficial, would not be a significant loss. Who gives a fuck? Does anyone actually care?

_You call me names; you call me insane; all I want is to be rid of this pain; am I no longer sane? _

They will mourn my loss... but they will not mourn me. They will think about the person who took their own life, but will not think about the things I will lose. They say they care! BUT THEY LIE! I can see through their fake concern for me. Why would they care? I've never given them any reason to care. I SEE THROUGH YOUR LIES! DON'T YOU PITY ME! The sympathy comes from the deaf, the dumb and the braindead.

He could not stand the pressure of his profession had put on him, he had always suffered from depression, he was suffering from a broken heart when his girlfriend left him. He could not stand loneliness, unrequited love of all sorts. He was too sensitive. Those would be their words, and what a load of shit that is.

_Feigned sympathy and compassion; these emotions come from the weak; suicide is not a common fashion; but I am far from meek _

Using the knife I slice into the wrists of both arms and watch as beautiful oh sweet glorius blood leak from the deep cut. I relish it. I love this feeling. My decision is based on postivity. A lust for life... real life and genuine emotions.

_Insatiable desire to kill; cut into my own flesh and draw blood; fuck your goodwill; this is not the act of a dud_

I can only speak for myself, and my decision is not based on weakness but on absolute power. Hamlet said it, Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, Camus and Sartre considered the question. It is not based on weakness, but on a free will, the liberty to contemplate the unthinkable. It is a question only the strongest can face.

It is said it is too easy to escape life but hard to go on with it. What fools. How many people can hold a gun to their head and pull the trigger?

How many can cut a knife into their arms to pierce arteries and veins?

How many can make the little step off a skyscraper?

How many people can swallow a cyanide pill?

Small movements, no mere accident, a jerk of an index finger, a cut, a step, a swallow.

How many think they do that but have to face their weakness on the doorsteps of a mysterious, scaring new existence?

How many people have the mental strength to deal with such a decision?

How many dare question their lives? Their purpose in living?

How many can face the fact that all they have done is useless and that there is no use apart from procreation – and what kind of a goal is that? Fucking, as the meaning of life. A goal for rabbits, for sheep and not for humans. And yet... it is good enough for most. To wait, to wait for something to come to save them from damnation, but it does not come. And so the cycle of procreation continues until death finally comes.

It takes courage to achieve this. I am no cowardly fool running away like a dog with a tail between his legs. This is a display of utmost bravery. How dare they call suicide a form of cowardice?

I am prepared for death. I welcome it with open arms. I am prepared for this pain and I am ready to no longer exist.

_Embrace death with open arms; set all this guilt and pain free; I bring upon myself this harm; to set my soul free_

To shake off this mortal coil,

To step up to the Gods and spit in their faces,

To make the final decision a one that cannot be undone,

A bargain with the devil.

A voluntary step into something unknown.

Emptiness?

Heaven?

Hell?

_Please refrain from any form of sorrow; hold back your tears; there will be no tomorrow; continued living is what I fear_

Can you imagine?

Standing on top of the highest cliff feeling the wind tear at your clothing. The only truth left in a world of lies and hypocrisy. The beauty of the abyss. Looking down into oblivion and voidness. The ground far, far away as it seems from here, but in reality only a couple of seconds away.

Standing there.

Feeling eternity in a restricted world.

Feeling a decision in a prefabricated existence.

To draw the final breath and to make that one extra step. To know that for once a decision was made to feel one foot above the abyss. To fall, to gain speed, to see the ground come closer and once it is done, a sense of satisfaction knowing you have done something for once.

Suicide is not based on weakness; it is based on absolute power – at least in my case.

No more endless, unbearable pain.

No more routine.

No more repetition.

No more.

Peace.

.

Thought I'd attempt a different take on a suicide one shot. The italics are not from any song, they are my attempts at creating a suicide song. Can you tell I'm no songwriter? Also, if you're interested, I've written another suicide one shot titled, 'As I Slowly Bleed' As always, reviews are much appreciated!


End file.
